


Domestic Drabbles

by Unlike_Any_Other



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:43:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlike_Any_Other/pseuds/Unlike_Any_Other
Summary: Every broken road in their life lead them towards each other. Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester fell in love in a whirlwind and slowly began to carve a life together. Snapshots of the life shared between two men who are as deeply in love as the day they first met.





	1. Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Finally trying to get back into things. The first of hopefully many small pieces framing brief moments of a life between Cas and Dean. No monsters, no hunters; just civilian life and love.

A groan breaks the silence in an otherwise quiet, humid morning. Two bodies press together despite the stifling heat of the room. It is a heat that is always present in Kansas in July. It rises up in waves from the asphalt and beats down on dead grass, threatening to light a fire simply by existing. The lazy fan on the top of a dresser does nothing but circulate hot air around the room. A thin white sheet is piled at the very foot of the bed. It hasn’t been touched for several days now, as even in no more than boxers the two men curled around one another wake up in sweat.

Cas, the source of the groan, stirs, pulling his sweat-slicked back away from where it’s pressed into Dean’s chest. He pushes a hand through his much too damp hair, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. It’s a miracle he doesn’t have to get up and get ready for work in this impossible heat, but he almost wishes he did. At least he’d be able to spend the day somewhere with an air conditioner. Theirs broke on Tuesday, and Castiel has yet to call a repairman, as Dean insisted he’d take a look and there was no need to pay someone else for what he could do. Somehow, he had managed to not get around to it yet. Something about not having the time, or how they could save even more money by not using the AC. 

Cas could only cook in his own house for so long. Their day’s schedule was empty, and there was no better time than now to finally have Dean work his magic. If something wasn’t done, the heat would bake them through and through. 

July is a merciless month. He remembers he once read a newspaper article reporting the numbers of hospital visits due to heatstroke had increased dramatically in the last few years. 

Mind made up, he decides he had best put Dean onto it before either of them came up with something else to do instead. “Dean,” Cas hums, rolling back to face his husband and receiving no response. Perhaps Dean has already died from the heat. “Hey, wake up.” Cas pouts, shoving lightly at his shoulder. The pout always works. Even with his eyes closed, Dean seems to know it’s there.

The soft green eyes flicker into view, half-lidded as Dean barely wakes himself from slumber. It’s all too easy to let the damp heat lull you into an everlasting sleep if you are not cautious. “Huh?”

“I think I’m actually melting. Can you _please_ look at the air conditioner today?”

“Good morning to you, too.” A yawn interrupts his morning greeting. Shifting to stretch, he nods. “I’ll look later.” The promise is spoken on tired enough lips that it’s unlikely Dean will even remember the conversation at all when he wakes from his next round of sleep.

“I’m serious.”

“Me too.” Castiel stands no chance as the arms reach out for him, pulling him back to Dean’s sticky chest.

“It’s too hot-” He tries to protest, struggling half-heartedly against Dean without any real desire to resist. He decides the heat makes him feeble and easily susceptible to persuasion.

“I will fix it today.” Dean’s breath is just another hot thing on Cas’ neck, but he closes his eyes, deciding that sleep might at least bring him temporary respite.

*

When Castiel next opens his eyes to the sultry room, he’s greeted with an empty bed. The faint smell of bacon reaches him through the open door, and the growling of his stomach is sated by a very strong desire to stay as far away as possible from anything remotely warm. 

A cool shower suddenly sounds like the best thing in the world, so he picks himself out of bed, crossing into the bathroom and ducking gratefully under the refreshing water. Showers are unarguably the greatest advancement in human history. Next to (working) air conditioners.

He doesn’t bother putting a shirt on when he’s done. It’s much too hot for that, and sweating again would just render the shower entirely useless. A fresh pair of shorts does the trick. The only thing on his mind is the air conditioner, and what it will take to get Dean to pull through on his promise.

If Dean is planning on fixing it today, he clearly doesn’t feel it is nearly as urgent a task as Cas does. He finds him at their dining table, browsing the newspaper with a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him, and a cup of coffee so hot Cas is certain it’s contributing to global warming. The window over the kitchen sink is open, one curtain catching in a barely-there breeze - Dean is convinced it does them a service by somehow cooling off the house, but Cas knows better - and the thermometer by the pantry reads 103 Fahrenheit. 

“They’re saying we’ve got record highs for this month. Farmers are worried about crops drying up and they’re predicting a hike in prices through this next season because of it.” 

“You don’t say?” Cas’ voice is dripping with as much sarcasm as his body has been dripping with sweat the past week. 

Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “There’s more food, if you want it.”

Cas glances dubiously at the hot coffee and the food still waiting on the stove. “It’s too hot for that food.”

“ _You’re_ too hot for that food.” It’s a pitiful comeback, but it gets Dean to lift his gaze from the newspaper, and his crooked half-grin is almost irresistible. Cas manages.

“Yeah, because _someone_ won’t fix the AC.” He pulls open the fridge, savoring the brief blast of cooler air as he pours himself a glass of orange juice. Drinking it before it reaches the same sweltering temperature as everything else, he walked over to Dean, leaning over to kiss his cheek from behind. “So, what do you say?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll look at it. At least let me finish eating.”

*

It’s almost noon before Dean follows through on his promise, but he follows through. Cas is offering his helpful advice over a lemonade, relaxing against the wall with a fan focused on him. 

“Did you try looking at that thingamajig? It doesn’t look right.”

“That ‘thingamajig’ is not the problem.” To his credit, Dean is being very patient. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” Dean wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, blinking his eyes as they sting from the sweat he didn’t catch. 

“Okay, then what about-” 

“I know what I’m doing, Cas. And I could do it a lot faster if you just let me work.”

“You’ve had five days to do it,” Cas reminds him.

“I know. But I’m doing it now.”

Ten minutes later, Dean straightens up, arching his back to stretch it out. “That should do it,” he answers in response to the question Cas didn’t have time to ask. “Go hit the thermostat?”

Cas doesn’t need to be told twice. He springs up, darting down the hall and turning the knob to turn it on, cold enough to freeze them out within the hour if it works. He practically holds his breath, and there’s a moment of silence when he’s disheartened, certain Dean failed. All that effort and they’d still have to call a repairman on Monday. He probably wouldn’t be able to get them in until at least Thursday, and- He hears a familiar rumbling, hurrying quickly to the nearest vent and letting out a sigh when he feels the cool air coming up. 

He turns and sprints back down to where Dean is still standing, triumphant as can be. “See? Told-”

Cas has his arms wrapped around him in no time, burying his face in his sweat stained shirt. “You’re the best.”

Dean’s chest vibrates as he chuckles, daring to wrap Cas briefly in his arms while they stand in the wave of cold air. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He stretches up on his tiptoes to kiss Dean in appreciation. Before Dean can do much more than return the kiss, Cas takes a step back, smirking. “Now go shower. You’re disgusting.”


	2. Time

_Buzz, buzz, buzz._

The sound drones on, hardly audible over the morning calls of the birds outside. Too comfortable to pay it any attention, two bodies remain tucked into the sheets, into one another, quiet and still. 

_Buzz, buzz._

One figure stirs, barely lifting his head to glance to where the offending alarm is serving its purpose. If he turned just right, he might be able to stretch his arm out to turn it off without disturbing the figure curled next to him. It’s too far for him to feel motivated to move, though, and the vibration continues.

“Cas.” Sleepily, he prods the stubborn man next to him. There is a groan, and the dark haired man shifts, then settles against him once more. “Babe, your alarm.” 

Another moan of protest, but he rolls over all the same, reaching out, feeling for the phone without looking. He finds it and closes his slender fingers around it, turning it off. 

“Five more minutes.” 

Arms wrap around Dean’s waist, pulling him back down onto the pillow, and who is he to resist? His hand finds Castiel’s soft hair, carding through it soothingly as both pairs of eyes close again, taking the risk of a few more minutes where they are. The world outside their bedroom can wait. It ceases to exist if only in that moment, the sun itself pausing in its progression upwards.

*

The blue curtains Cas picked out before they’d even bought the house compliment the summery hues of the bedroom, but they have always fallen short when it comes to blocking the invasive sunlight that pushes past. Their inefficiency has always been a nuisance, but on this particular morning, it is a godsend. The sunlight hits Dean’s eyes and they open sleepily, staring for several seconds as his mind follows the waking of his body. 

With a start, he’s wide awake, pushing himself into a sitting position in bed. “Cas, hey, wake up. What time is it?” The own question is answered when he checks the watch on his bedside table. It reads 7:13 AM, less than an hour before he has to be at work. Ideally, Cas would have been at work a quarter of an hour ago. “Cas, we gotta get up, we’re gonna be late.” 

That seems to register enough to wake the other man, and his soft, wide blue eyes open. They’re close in color to the useless curtains, though carry far more depth than a piece of fabric ever could. Dean doesn’t mind the curtains so much when he thinks of that, even if they do prevent him sleeping in on weekends.

“What time 's'it?” Finally, Cas props himself up onto an elbow, attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

“After seven.” Dean is already out of bed, with the dresser doors pulled open as he tugs on a pair of his jeans coupled with a loose t-shirt. He disappears into the bathroom, only glancing over his shoulder to ensure his husband isn’t going to go back to bed in his absence. He has nothing to worry about, as Cas is already untangling his feet from the sheets and clambering out, his red pajama bottoms landing in a pile next to Dean's. 

In the bathroom, Dean somehow manages to shave with one hand and brush his teeth with the other. Cas ducks in when he is halfway through shaving, still tucking a button-up shirt into khakis. He pauses to press a kiss to the smooth side of Dean’s cheek. Slipping past, Cas runs a comb through his hair. Their elbows clash, fighting for space at the vanity, not accustomed to a morning routine that mandated they try to make use of the room simultaneously.

Cas finishes before Dean, deciding that shaving can wait on this particular morning. Dean follows a minute later, fastening his watch to his wrist as he jogs down the stairs. Cas already in the kitchen, his back to Dean and a mug of fresh coffee in hand as he gazed out the small window over their sink.

“I made coffee.” 

Dean hums in gratefulness, grabbing a travel cup to fill with the hot liquid. He takes a banana for his breakfast-to-go and digs through the fridge for the lunch Cas always packed him the night before. What would he ever do without him?

“Shouldn’t you be going?” A reluctant glance at his watch told him it was already after 7:30. _Dean_ should be going by now.

“I suppose I should be.” Turning, Castiel sets his coffee down by the sink for one of them to worry about cleaning later. He casts a shadowed glance towards Dean, collecting the lunch bag Dean dug out of the fridge for him. “Yes, I don’t want to be late for my first class, that would not be good. I’ll see you later, Dean.”

Dean flashes a soft smile his way, saluting with his left hand as he adds creamer to his coffee with his right. “Have a great day, Cas.”

Cas slips from the kitchen, gone without another word. Almost at once, a strange emptiness settles over the house, interrupted only by the slamming of the front door. Dean shot suddenly from the kitchen, running barefoot into the driveway in time to catch Cas at the door to his car.

“Hey, wait up.” 

“Dean?” Cas paused, turning before he could get into his car. “What’s going on? I’m going to be late, you know.”

Dean knew. He merely shrugs, a lingering smile on his lips as his eyes dance over Cas’ attire appreciatively. He reaches out, brushing his fingers along the line where his shirt tucked into his slacks and then grabbing a corner of it. He gives a light tug, straightening the shirt gently. 

“You look nice.” 

“So do you.” Cas lifts his hand, wiping his thumb along the corner of Dean’s jaw where a spot of blood had appeared from the hasty shave. “I should go.”

“Yeah.” Dean hesitates, unwilling to let Cas go without a proper goodbye. His fingers stretch out until they wrap around Cas’ waist, and their soft eyes hold one another in their gazes for a long moment. Their lips brush for only half a second before Dean steps back, dropping his hand. “What if I stopped by during your lunch hour today?”

Cas flashes one of his soft, barely-there smiles. “I’d like that. I’ll see you then, Dean.”

“Bye, Cas.”

Cas climbs into his car. The engine growls to life, when Cas glances in his rear view mirror, he can see Dean standing in the driveway, watching him disappear down the their street.


End file.
